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She shuffled closer to the water, the sand soft and cool beneath her feet. The noise of the Spring Break parties echoed around her, a stark contrast to the tranquility of her own room—a place where she could simply be. "Find somewhere quiet, Ashbie," she murmured to herself, clutching her 'Pepe the Frog' shirt as if it might shield her somehow. She had imagined the beach would be her haven for the weekend, but the laughter and chatter from the crowd felt overwhelming. The anxiety seemed to pummel her, more forceful than the waves crashing onto the shore.
Then she heard laughter—not the joyful kind, but the mean-spirited, hushed variety that cuts deeply. Fleeting glances came her way, piercing in their brevity. "Are they laughing at me?" she whispered, her chest tightening and breaths coming too fast. Overcome, she needed to escape, and so she moved quickly, almost running but not quite, toward the pier where solitude awaited. There, concealed from view, she allowed herself to cry, wishing the sea would thunder louder to drown out the sounds of her own sorrow. And as she tried to compose herself, a blur approached, signaling the approach of someone else...
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